It has not occurred to me to mention Peggotty since I ran away; but, ofcourse, I wrote her a letter almost as soon as I was housed at Dover,and another, and a longer letter, containing all particulars fullyrelated, when my aunt took me formally under her protection. On my beingsettled at Doctor Strong's I wrote to her again, detailing my happycondition and prospects. I never could have derived anything like thepleasure from spending the money Mr. Dick had given me, that I felt insending a gold half-guinea to Peggotty, per post, enclosed in this lastletter, to discharge the sum I had borrowed of her: in which epistle,not before, I mentioned about the young man with the donkey-cart.

To these communications Peggotty replied as promptly, if not asconcisely, as a merchant's clerk. Her utmost powers of expression (whichwere certainly not great in ink) were exhausted in the attempt to writewhat she felt on the subject of my journey. Four sides of incoherent andinterjectional beginnings of sentences, that had no end, except blots,were inadequate to afford her any relief. But the blots were moreexpressive to me than the best composition; for they showed me thatPeggotty had been crying all over the paper, and what could I havedesired more?

I made out, without much difficulty, that she could not take quitekindly to my aunt yet. The notice was too short after so long aprepossession the other way. We never knew a person, she wrote; but tothink that Miss Betsey should seem to be so different from what she hadbeen thought to be, was a Moral!--that was her word. She was evidentlystill afraid of Miss Betsey, for she sent her grateful duty to her buttimidly; and she was evidently afraid of me, too, and entertained theprobability of my running away again soon: if I might judge from therepeated hints she threw out, that the coach-fare to Yarmouth was alwaysto be had of her for the asking.

She gave me one piece of intelligence which affected me very much,namely, that there had been a sale of the furniture at our old home, andthat Mr. and Miss Murdstone were gone away, and the house was shut up,to be let or sold. God knows I had no part in it while they remainedthere, but it pained me to think of the dear old place as altogetherabandoned; of the weeds growing tall in the garden, and the fallenleaves lying thick and wet upon the paths. I imagined how the windsof winter would howl round it, how the cold rain would beat upon thewindow-glass, how the moon would make ghosts on the walls of the emptyrooms, watching their solitude all night. I thought afresh of the gravein the churchyard, underneath the tree: and it seemed as if the housewere dead too, now, and all connected with my father and mother werefaded away.

There was no other news in Peggotty's letters. Mr. Barkis was anexcellent husband, she said, though still a little near; but we all hadour faults, and she had plenty (though I am sure I don't know what theywere); and he sent his duty, and my little bedroom was always ready forme. Mr. Peggotty was well, and Ham was well, and Mrs.. Gummidge was butpoorly, and little Em'ly wouldn't send her love, but said that Peggottymight send it, if she liked.

All this intelligence I dutifully imparted to my aunt, only reservingto myself the mention of little Em'ly, to whom I instinctively feltthat she would not very tenderly incline. While I was yet new at DoctorStrong's, she made several excursions over to Canterbury to see me, andalways at unseasonable hours: with the view, I suppose, of taking me bysurprise. But, finding me well employed, and bearing a good character,and hearing on all hands that I rose fast in the school, she soondiscontinued these visits. I saw her on a Saturday, every third orfourth week, when I went over to Dover for a treat; and I saw Mr. Dickevery alternate Wednesday, when he arrived by stage-coach at noon, tostay until next morning.

On these occasions Mr. Dick never travelled without a leathernwriting-desk, containing a supply of stationery and the Memorial; inrelation to which document he had a notion that time was beginning topress now, and that it really must be got out of hand.

Mr. Dick was very partial to gingerbread. To render his visits the moreagreeable, my aunt had instructed me to open a credit for him at a cakeshop, which was hampered with the stipulation that he should not beserved with more than one shilling's-worth in the course of any one day.This, and the reference of all his little bills at the county inn wherehe slept, to my aunt, before they were paid, induced me to suspect thathe was only allowed to rattle his money, and not to spend it. I foundon further investigation that this was so, or at least there was anagreement between him and my aunt that he should account to her forall his disbursements. As he had no idea of deceiving her, and alwaysdesired to please her, he was thus made chary of launching into expense.On this point, as well as on all other possible points, Mr. Dick wasconvinced that my aunt was the wisest and most wonderful of women; as herepeatedly told me with infinite secrecy, and always in a whisper.

'Trotwood,' said Mr. Dick, with an air of mystery, after imparting thisconfidence to me, one Wednesday; 'who's the man that hides near ourhouse and frightens her?'

'Frightens my aunt, sir?'

Mr. Dick nodded. 'I thought nothing would have frightened her,' he said,'for she's--' here he whispered softly, 'don't mention it--the wisestand most wonderful of women.' Having said which, he drew back, toobserve the effect which this description of her made upon me.

'The first time he came,' said Mr. Dick, 'was--let me see--sixteenhundred and forty-nine was the date of King Charles's execution. I thinkyou said sixteen hundred and forty-nine?'

'Yes, sir.'

'I don't know how it can be,' said Mr. Dick, sorely puzzled and shakinghis head. 'I don't think I am as old as that.'

'Was it in that year that the man appeared, sir?' I asked.

'Why, really' said Mr. Dick, 'I don't see how it can have been in thatyear, Trotwood. Did you get that date out of history?'

'Yes, sir.'

'I suppose history never lies, does it?' said Mr. Dick, with a gleam ofhope.

'Oh dear, no, sir!' I replied, most decisively. I was ingenuous andyoung, and I thought so.

'I can't make it out,' said Mr. Dick, shaking his head. 'There'ssomething wrong, somewhere. However, it was very soon after the mistakewas made of putting some of the trouble out of King Charles's head intomy head, that the man first came. I was walking out with Miss Trotwoodafter tea, just at dark, and there he was, close to our house.'

'Walking about?' I inquired.

'Walking about?' repeated Mr. Dick. 'Let me see, I must recollect a bit.N-no, no; he was not walking about.'

I asked, as the shortest way to get at it, what he WAS doing.

'Well, he wasn't there at all,' said Mr. Dick, 'until he came up behindher, and whispered. Then she turned round and fainted, and I stood stilland looked at him, and he walked away; but that he should havebeen hiding ever since (in the ground or somewhere), is the mostextraordinary thing!'

'HAS he been hiding ever since?' I asked.

'To be sure he has,' retorted Mr. Dick, nodding his head gravely. 'Nevercame out, till last night! We were walking last night, and he came upbehind her again, and I knew him again.'

'And did he frighten my aunt again?'

'All of a shiver,' said Mr. Dick, counterfeiting that affection andmaking his teeth chatter. 'Held by the palings. Cried. But, Trotwood,come here,' getting me close to him, that he might whisper very softly;'why did she give him money, boy, in the moonlight?'

'He was a beggar, perhaps.'

Mr. Dick shook his head, as utterly renouncing the suggestion; andhaving replied a great many times, and with great confidence, 'Nobeggar, no beggar, no beggar, sir!' went on to say, that from his windowhe had afterwards, and late at night, seen my aunt give this personmoney outside the garden rails in the moonlight, who then slunkaway--into the ground again, as he thought probable--and was seen nomore: while my aunt came hurriedly and secretly back into the house, andhad, even that morning, been quite different from her usual self; whichpreyed on Mr. Dick's mind.

I had not the least belief, in the outset of this story, that theunknown was anything but a delusion of Mr. Dick's, and one of the lineof that ill-fated Prince who occasioned him so much difficulty; butafter some reflection I began to entertain the question whether anattempt, or threat of an attempt, might have been twice made to takepoor Mr. Dick himself from under my aunt's protection, and whethermy aunt, the strength of whose kind feeling towards him I knew fromherself, might have been induced to pay a price for his peace and quiet.As I was already much attached to Mr. Dick, and very solicitous for hiswelfare, my fears favoured this supposition; and for a long time hisWednesday hardly ever came round, without my entertaining a misgivingthat he would not be on the coach-box as usual. There he alwaysappeared, however, grey-headed, laughing, and happy; and he never hadanything more to tell of the man who could frighten my aunt.

These Wednesdays were the happiest days of Mr. Dick's life; they werefar from being the least happy of mine. He soon became known to everyboy in the school; and though he never took an active part in any gamebut kite-flying, was as deeply interested in all our sports as anyoneamong us. How often have I seen him, intent upon a match at marblesor pegtop, looking on with a face of unutterable interest, and hardlybreathing at the critical times! How often, at hare and hounds, haveI seen him mounted on a little knoll, cheering the whole field onto action, and waving his hat above his grey head, oblivious of KingCharles the Martyr's head, and all belonging to it! How many asummer hour have I known to be but blissful minutes to him inthe cricket-field! How many winter days have I seen him, standingblue-nosed, in the snow and east wind, looking at the boys going downthe long slide, and clapping his worsted gloves in rapture!

He was an universal favourite, and his ingenuity in little things wastranscendent. He could cut oranges into such devices as none of us hadan idea of. He could make a boat out of anything, from a skewer upwards.He could turn cramp-bones into chessmen; fashion Roman chariots from oldcourt cards; make spoked wheels out of cotton reels, and bird-cages ofold wire. But he was greatest of all, perhaps, in the articles of stringand straw; with which we were all persuaded he could do anything thatcould be done by hands.

Mr. Dick's renown was not long confined to us. After a few Wednesdays,Doctor Strong himself made some inquiries of me about him, and I toldhim all my aunt had told me; which interested the Doctor so much thathe requested, on the occasion of his next visit, to be presented to him.This ceremony I performed; and the Doctor begging Mr. Dick, whensoeverhe should not find me at the coach office, to come on there, and resthimself until our morning's work was over, it soon passed into a customfor Mr. Dick to come on as a matter of course, and, if we were a littlelate, as often happened on a Wednesday, to walk about the courtyard,waiting for me. Here he made the acquaintance of the Doctor's beautifulyoung wife (paler than formerly, all this time; more rarely seen byme or anyone, I think; and not so gay, but not less beautiful), and sobecame more and more familiar by degrees, until, at last, he would comeinto the school and wait. He always sat in a particular corner, on aparticular stool, which was called 'Dick', after him; here he would sit,with his grey head bent forward, attentively listening to whatever mightbe going on, with a profound veneration for the learning he had neverbeen able to acquire.

This veneration Mr. Dick extended to the Doctor, whom he thought themost subtle and accomplished philosopher of any age. It was long beforeMr. Dick ever spoke to him otherwise than bareheaded; and even when heand the Doctor had struck up quite a friendship, and would walk togetherby the hour, on that side of the courtyard which was known among us asThe Doctor's Walk, Mr. Dick would pull off his hat at intervals to showhis respect for wisdom and knowledge. How it ever came about that theDoctor began to read out scraps of the famous Dictionary, in thesewalks, I never knew; perhaps he felt it all the same, at first, asreading to himself. However, it passed into a custom too; and Mr. Dick,listening with a face shining with pride and pleasure, in his heart ofhearts believed the Dictionary to be the most delightful book in theworld.

As I think of them going up and down before those schoolroomwindows--the Doctor reading with his complacent smile, an occasionalflourish of the manuscript, or grave motion of his head; and Mr. Dicklistening, enchained by interest, with his poor wits calmly wanderingGod knows where, upon the wings of hard words--I think of it as one ofthe pleasantest things, in a quiet way, that I have ever seen. I feelas if they might go walking to and fro for ever, and the world mightsomehow be the better for it--as if a thousand things it makes a noiseabout, were not one half so good for it, or me.

Agnes was one of Mr. Dick's friends, very soon; and in often comingto the house, he made acquaintance with Uriah. The friendship betweenhimself and me increased continually, and it was maintained on this oddfooting: that, while Mr. Dick came professedly to look after me as myguardian, he always consulted me in any little matter of doubt thatarose, and invariably guided himself by my advice; not only having ahigh respect for my native sagacity, but considering that I inherited agood deal from my aunt.

One Thursday morning, when I was about to walk with Mr. Dick from thehotel to the coach office before going back to school (for we had anhour's school before breakfast), I met Uriah in the street, who remindedme of the promise I had made to take tea with himself and his mother:adding, with a writhe, 'But I didn't expect you to keep it, MasterCopperfield, we're so very umble.'

I really had not yet been able to make up my mind whether I liked Uriahor detested him; and I was very doubtful about it still, as I stoodlooking him in the face in the street. But I felt it quite an affront tobe supposed proud, and said I only wanted to be asked.

'Oh, if that's all, Master Copperfield,' said Uriah, 'and it reallyisn't our umbleness that prevents you, will you come this evening?But if it is our umbleness, I hope you won't mind owning to it, MasterCopperfield; for we are well aware of our condition.'

I said I would mention it to Mr. Wickfield, and if he approved, as I hadno doubt he would, I would come with pleasure. So, at six o'clock thatevening, which was one of the early office evenings, I announced myselfas ready, to Uriah.

'Mother will be proud, indeed,' he said, as we walked away together. 'Orshe would be proud, if it wasn't sinful, Master Copperfield.'

'Yet you didn't mind supposing I was proud this morning,' I returned.

'Oh dear, no, Master Copperfield!' returned Uriah. 'Oh, believe me, no!Such a thought never came into my head! I shouldn't have deemed it atall proud if you had thought US too umble for you. Because we are sovery umble.'

'Have you been studying much law lately?' I asked, to change thesubject.

'Oh, Master Copperfield,' he said, with an air of self-denial, 'myreading is hardly to be called study. I have passed an hour or two inthe evening, sometimes, with Mr. Tidd.'

'Rather hard, I suppose?' said I. 'He is hard to me sometimes,' returnedUriah. 'But I don't know what he might be to a gifted person.'

After beating a little tune on his chin as he walked on, with the twoforefingers of his skeleton right hand, he added:

'There are expressions, you see, Master Copperfield--Latin wordsand terms--in Mr. Tidd, that are trying to a reader of my umbleattainments.'

'Would you like to be taught Latin?' I said briskly. 'I will teach ityou with pleasure, as I learn it.'

'Oh, thank you, Master Copperfield,' he answered, shaking his head. 'Iam sure it's very kind of you to make the offer, but I am much too umbleto accept it.'

'What nonsense, Uriah!'

'Oh, indeed you must excuse me, Master Copperfield! I am greatlyobliged, and I should like it of all things, I assure you; but I am fartoo umble. There are people enough to tread upon me in my lowly state,without my doing outrage to their feelings by possessing learning.Learning ain't for me. A person like myself had better not aspire. If heis to get on in life, he must get on umbly, Master Copperfield!'

I never saw his mouth so wide, or the creases in his cheeks so deep, aswhen he delivered himself of these sentiments: shaking his head all thetime, and writhing modestly.

'I think you are wrong, Uriah,' I said. 'I dare say there are severalthings that I could teach you, if you would like to learn them.'

'Oh, I don't doubt that, Master Copperfield,' he answered; 'not in theleast. But not being umble yourself, you don't judge well, perhaps, forthem that are. I won't provoke my betters with knowledge, thank you. I'mmuch too umble. Here is my umble dwelling, Master Copperfield!'

We entered a low, old-fashioned room, walked straight into from thestreet, and found there Mrs. Heep, who was the dead image of Uriah, onlyshort. She received me with the utmost humility, and apologized to mefor giving her son a kiss, observing that, lowly as they were, theyhad their natural affections, which they hoped would give no offence toanyone. It was a perfectly decent room, half parlour and half kitchen,but not at all a snug room. The tea-things were set upon the table, andthe kettle was boiling on the hob. There was a chest of drawers with anescritoire top, for Uriah to read or write at of an evening; there wasUriah's blue bag lying down and vomiting papers; there was a company ofUriah's books commanded by Mr. Tidd; there was a corner cupboard: andthere were the usual articles of furniture. I don't remember that anyindividual object had a bare, pinched, spare look; but I do rememberthat the whole place had.

It was perhaps a part of Mrs. Heep's humility, that she still woreweeds. Notwithstanding the lapse of time that had occurred since Mr.Heep's decease, she still wore weeds. I think there was some compromisein the cap; but otherwise she was as weedy as in the early days of hermourning.

'This is a day to be remembered, my Uriah, I am sure,' said Mrs. Heep,making the tea, 'when Master Copperfield pays us a visit.'

'I said you'd think so, mother,' said Uriah.

'If I could have wished father to remain among us for any reason,' saidMrs. Heep, 'it would have been, that he might have known his companythis afternoon.'

I felt embarrassed by these compliments; but I was sensible, too, ofbeing entertained as an honoured guest, and I thought Mrs. Heep anagreeable woman.

'My Uriah,' said Mrs. Heep, 'has looked forward to this, sir, a longwhile. He had his fears that our umbleness stood in the way, and Ijoined in them myself. Umble we are, umble we have been, umble we shallever be,' said Mrs. Heep.

'I am sure you have no occasion to be so, ma'am,' I said, 'unless youlike.'

'Thank you, sir,' retorted Mrs. Heep. 'We know our station and arethankful in it.'

I found that Mrs. Heep gradually got nearer to me, and that Uriahgradually got opposite to me, and that they respectfully plied mewith the choicest of the eatables on the table. There was nothingparticularly choice there, to be sure; but I took the will for the deed,and felt that they were very attentive. Presently they began to talkabout aunts, and then I told them about mine; and about fathers andmothers, and then I told them about mine; and then Mrs. Heep began totalk about fathers-in-law, and then I began to tell her about mine--butstopped, because my aunt had advised me to observe a silence on thatsubject. A tender young cork, however, would have had no more chanceagainst a pair of corkscrews, or a tender young tooth against a pair ofdentists, or a little shuttlecock against two battledores, than I hadagainst Uriah and Mrs. Heep. They did just what they liked with me; andwormed things out of me that I had no desire to tell, with a certaintyI blush to think of, the more especially, as in my juvenile frankness, Itook some credit to myself for being so confidential and felt that I wasquite the patron of my two respectful entertainers.

They were very fond of one another: that was certain. I take it, thathad its effect upon me, as a touch of nature; but the skill with whichthe one followed up whatever the other said, was a touch of art which Iwas still less proof against. When there was nothing more to be gotout of me about myself (for on the Murdstone and Grinby life, and on myjourney, I was dumb), they began about Mr. Wickfield and Agnes. Uriahthrew the ball to Mrs. Heep, Mrs. Heep caught it and threw it back toUriah, Uriah kept it up a little while, then sent it back to Mrs. Heep,and so they went on tossing it about until I had no idea who had got it,and was quite bewildered. The ball itself was always changing too. Nowit was Mr. Wickfield, now Agnes, now the excellence of Mr. Wickfield,now my admiration of Agnes; now the extent of Mr. Wickfield's businessand resources, now our domestic life after dinner; now, the wine thatMr. Wickfield took, the reason why he took it, and the pity that it washe took so much; now one thing, now another, then everything at once;and all the time, without appearing to speak very often, or to doanything but sometimes encourage them a little, for fear they should beovercome by their humility and the honour of my company, I found myselfperpetually letting out something or other that I had no business tolet out and seeing the effect of it in the twinkling of Uriah's dintednostrils.

I had begun to be a little uncomfortable, and to wish myself well outof the visit, when a figure coming down the street passed the door--itstood open to air the room, which was warm, the weather being close forthe time of year--came back again, looked in, and walked in, exclaimingloudly, 'Copperfield! Is it possible?'

It was Mr. Micawber! It was Mr. Micawber, with his eye-glass, andhis walking-stick, and his shirt-collar, and his genteel air, and thecondescending roll in his voice, all complete!

'My dear Copperfield,' said Mr. Micawber, putting out his hand, 'this isindeed a meeting which is calculated to impress the mind with a senseof the instability and uncertainty of all human--in short, it is a mostextraordinary meeting. Walking along the street, reflecting upon theprobability of something turning up (of which I am at present rathersanguine), I find a young but valued friend turn up, who is connectedwith the most eventful period of my life; I may say, with theturning-point of my existence. Copperfield, my dear fellow, how do youdo?'

I cannot say--I really cannot say--that I was glad to see Mr. Micawberthere; but I was glad to see him too, and shook hands with him,heartily, inquiring how Mrs. Micawber was.

'Thank you,' said Mr. Micawber, waving his hand as of old, and settlinghis chin in his shirt-collar. 'She is tolerably convalescent. The twinsno longer derive their sustenance from Nature's founts--in short,' saidMr. Micawber, in one of his bursts of confidence, 'they are weaned--andMrs. Micawber is, at present, my travelling companion. She will berejoiced, Copperfield, to renew her acquaintance with one who hasproved himself in all respects a worthy minister at the sacred altar offriendship.'

I said I should be delighted to see her.

'You are very good,' said Mr. Micawber.

Mr. Micawber then smiled, settled his chin again, and looked about him.

'I have discovered my friend Copperfield,' said Mr. Micawber genteelly,and without addressing himself particularly to anyone, 'not in solitude,but partaking of a social meal in company with a widow lady, and one whois apparently her offspring--in short,' said Mr. Micawber, in anotherof his bursts of confidence, 'her son. I shall esteem it an honour to bepresented.'

I could do no less, under these circumstances, than make Mr. Micawberknown to Uriah Heep and his mother; which I accordingly did. As theyabased themselves before him, Mr. Micawber took a seat, and waved hishand in his most courtly manner.

'Any friend of my friend Copperfield's,' said Mr. Micawber, 'has apersonal claim upon myself.'

'We are too umble, sir,' said Mrs. Heep, 'my son and me, to be thefriends of Master Copperfield. He has been so good as take his tea withus, and we are thankful to him for his company, also to you, sir, foryour notice.'

'Ma'am,' returned Mr. Micawber, with a bow, 'you are very obliging: andwhat are you doing, Copperfield? Still in the wine trade?'

I was excessively anxious to get Mr. Micawber away; and replied, with myhat in my hand, and a very red face, I have no doubt, that I was a pupilat Doctor Strong's.

'A pupil?' said Mr. Micawber, raising his eyebrows. 'I am extremelyhappy to hear it. Although a mind like my friend Copperfield's'--toUriah and Mrs. Heep--'does not require that cultivation which, withouthis knowledge of men and things, it would require, still it is a richsoil teeming with latent vegetation--in short,' said Mr. Micawber,smiling, in another burst of confidence, 'it is an intellect capable ofgetting up the classics to any extent.'

Uriah, with his long hands slowly twining over one another, made aghastly writhe from the waist upwards, to express his concurrence inthis estimation of me.

'Shall we go and see Mrs. Micawber, sir?' I said, to get Mr. Micawberaway.

'If you will do her that favour, Copperfield,' replied Mr. Micawber,rising. 'I have no scruple in saying, in the presence of our friendshere, that I am a man who has, for some years, contended against thepressure of pecuniary difficulties.' I knew he was certain to saysomething of this kind; he always would be so boastful about hisdifficulties. 'Sometimes I have risen superior to my difficulties.Sometimes my difficulties have--in short, have floored me. There havebeen times when I have administered a succession of facers to them;there have been times when they have been too many for me, and I havegiven in, and said to Mrs. Micawber, in the words of Cato, "Plato, thoureasonest well. It's all up now. I can show fight no more." But at notime of my life,' said Mr. Micawber, 'have I enjoyed a higher degree ofsatisfaction than in pouring my griefs (if I may describe difficulties,chiefly arising out of warrants of attorney and promissory notes at twoand four months, by that word) into the bosom of my friend Copperfield.'

Mr. Micawber closed this handsome tribute by saying, 'Mr. Heep! Goodevening. Mrs. Heep! Your servant,' and then walking out with me in hismost fashionable manner, making a good deal of noise on the pavementwith his shoes, and humming a tune as we went.

It was a little inn where Mr. Micawber put up, and he occupied a littleroom in it, partitioned off from the commercial room, and stronglyflavoured with tobacco-smoke. I think it was over the kitchen, becausea warm greasy smell appeared to come up through the chinks in the floor,and there was a flabby perspiration on the walls. I know it was near thebar, on account of the smell of spirits and jingling of glasses. Here,recumbent on a small sofa, underneath a picture of a race-horse, withher head close to the fire, and her feet pushing the mustard off thedumb-waiter at the other end of the room, was Mrs. Micawber, to whom Mr.Micawber entered first, saying, 'My dear, allow me to introduce to you apupil of Doctor Strong's.'

I noticed, by the by, that although Mr. Micawber was just as muchconfused as ever about my age and standing, he always remembered, as agenteel thing, that I was a pupil of Doctor Strong's.

Mrs. Micawber was amazed, but very glad to see me. I was very glad tosee her too, and, after an affectionate greeting on both sides, sat downon the small sofa near her.

'My dear,' said Mr. Micawber, 'if you will mention to Copperfield whatour present position is, which I have no doubt he will like to know, Iwill go and look at the paper the while, and see whether anything turnsup among the advertisements.'

'I thought you were at Plymouth, ma'am,' I said to Mrs. Micawber, as hewent out.

'My dear Master Copperfield,' she replied, 'we went to Plymouth.'

'To be on the spot,' I hinted.

'Just so,' said Mrs. Micawber. 'To be on the spot. But, the truth is,talent is not wanted in the Custom House. The local influence of myfamily was quite unavailing to obtain any employment in that department,for a man of Mr. Micawber's abilities. They would rather NOT have a manof Mr. Micawber's abilities. He would only show the deficiency of theothers. Apart from which,' said Mrs. Micawber, 'I will not disguisefrom you, my dear Master Copperfield, that when that branch of myfamily which is settled in Plymouth, became aware that Mr. Micawber wasaccompanied by myself, and by little Wilkins and his sister, and by thetwins, they did not receive him with that ardour which he might haveexpected, being so newly released from captivity. In fact,' said Mrs.Micawber, lowering her voice,--'this is between ourselves--our receptionwas cool.'

'Dear me!' I said.

'Yes,' said Mrs. Micawber. 'It is truly painful to contemplate mankindin such an aspect, Master Copperfield, but our reception was, decidedly,cool. There is no doubt about it. In fact, that branch of my familywhich is settled in Plymouth became quite personal to Mr. Micawber,before we had been there a week.'

I said, and thought, that they ought to be ashamed of themselves.

'Still, so it was,' continued Mrs. Micawber. 'Under such circumstances,what could a man of Mr. Micawber's spirit do? But one obvious coursewas left. To borrow, of that branch of my family, the money to return toLondon, and to return at any sacrifice.'

'Then you all came back again, ma'am?' I said.

'We all came back again,' replied Mrs. Micawber. 'Since then, I haveconsulted other branches of my family on the course which it is mostexpedient for Mr. Micawber to take--for I maintain that he must takesome course, Master Copperfield,' said Mrs. Micawber, argumentatively.'It is clear that a family of six, not including a domestic, cannot liveupon air.'

'Certainly, ma'am,' said I.

'The opinion of those other branches of my family,' pursued Mrs.Micawber, 'is, that Mr. Micawber should immediately turn his attentionto coals.'

'To what, ma'am?'

'To coals,' said Mrs. Micawber. 'To the coal trade. Mr. Micawber wasinduced to think, on inquiry, that there might be an opening for aman of his talent in the Medway Coal Trade. Then, as Mr. Micawber veryproperly said, the first step to be taken clearly was, to come and seethe Medway. Which we came and saw. I say "we", Master Copperfield; forI never will,' said Mrs. Micawber with emotion, 'I never will desert Mr.Micawber.'

I murmured my admiration and approbation.

'We came,' repeated Mrs. Micawber, 'and saw the Medway. My opinion ofthe coal trade on that river is, that it may require talent, but thatit certainly requires capital. Talent, Mr. Micawber has; capital, Mr.Micawber has not. We saw, I think, the greater part of the Medway; andthat is my individual conclusion. Being so near here, Mr. Micawber wasof opinion that it would be rash not to come on, and see the Cathedral.Firstly, on account of its being so well worth seeing, and our neverhaving seen it; and secondly, on account of the great probability ofsomething turning up in a cathedral town. We have been here,' said Mrs.Micawber, 'three days. Nothing has, as yet, turned up; and it maynot surprise you, my dear Master Copperfield, so much as it would astranger, to know that we are at present waiting for a remittance fromLondon, to discharge our pecuniary obligations at this hotel. Until thearrival of that remittance,' said Mrs. Micawber with much feeling, 'I amcut off from my home (I allude to lodgings in Pentonville), from my boyand girl, and from my twins.'

I felt the utmost sympathy for Mr. and Mrs. Micawber in this anxiousextremity, and said as much to Mr. Micawber, who now returned: addingthat I only wished I had money enough, to lend them the amount theyneeded. Mr. Micawber's answer expressed the disturbance of his mind. Hesaid, shaking hands with me, 'Copperfield, you are a true friend; butwhen the worst comes to the worst, no man is without a friend who ispossessed of shaving materials.' At this dreadful hint Mrs. Micawberthrew her arms round Mr. Micawber's neck and entreated him to be calm.He wept; but so far recovered, almost immediately, as to ring the bellfor the waiter, and bespeak a hot kidney pudding and a plate of shrimpsfor breakfast in the morning.

When I took my leave of them, they both pressed me so much to come anddine before they went away, that I could not refuse. But, as I knew Icould not come next day, when I should have a good deal to prepare inthe evening, Mr. Micawber arranged that he would call at Doctor Strong'sin the course of the morning (having a presentiment that the remittancewould arrive by that post), and propose the day after, if it would suitme better. Accordingly I was called out of school next forenoon, andfound Mr. Micawber in the parlour; who had called to say that the dinnerwould take place as proposed. When I asked him if the remittance hadcome, he pressed my hand and departed.

As I was looking out of window that same evening, it surprised me, andmade me rather uneasy, to see Mr. Micawber and Uriah Heep walk past, armin arm: Uriah humbly sensible of the honour that was done him, and Mr.Micawber taking a bland delight in extending his patronage to Uriah. ButI was still more surprised, when I went to the little hotel next day atthe appointed dinner-hour, which was four o'clock, to find, from whatMr. Micawber said, that he had gone home with Uriah, and had drunkbrandy-and-water at Mrs. Heep's.

'And I'll tell you what, my dear Copperfield,' said Mr. Micawber, 'yourfriend Heep is a young fellow who might be attorney-general. If I hadknown that young man, at the period when my difficulties came to acrisis, all I can say is, that I believe my creditors would have been agreat deal better managed than they were.'

I hardly understood how this could have been, seeing that Mr. Micawberhad paid them nothing at all as it was; but I did not like toask. Neither did I like to say, that I hoped he had not been toocommunicative to Uriah; or to inquire if they had talked much about me.I was afraid of hurting Mr. Micawber's feelings, or, at all events, Mrs.Micawber's, she being very sensitive; but I was uncomfortable about it,too, and often thought about it afterwards.

We had a beautiful little dinner. Quite an elegant dish of fish; thekidney-end of a loin of veal, roasted; fried sausage-meat; a partridge,and a pudding. There was wine, and there was strong ale; and afterdinner Mrs. Micawber made us a bowl of hot punch with her own hands.

Mr. Micawber was uncommonly convivial. I never saw him such goodcompany. He made his face shine with the punch, so that it looked as ifit had been varnished all over. He got cheerfully sentimental aboutthe town, and proposed success to it; observing that Mrs. Micawber andhimself had been made extremely snug and comfortable there and that henever should forget the agreeable hours they had passed in Canterbury.He proposed me afterwards; and he, and Mrs. Micawber, and I, took areview of our past acquaintance, in the course of which we sold theproperty all over again. Then I proposed Mrs. Micawber: or, at least,said, modestly, 'If you'll allow me, Mrs. Micawber, I shall now havethe pleasure of drinking your health, ma'am.' On which Mr. Micawberdelivered an eulogium on Mrs. Micawber's character, and said shehad ever been his guide, philosopher, and friend, and that he wouldrecommend me, when I came to a marrying time of life, to marry suchanother woman, if such another woman could be found.

As the punch disappeared, Mr. Micawber became still more friendly andconvivial. Mrs. Micawber's spirits becoming elevated, too, we sang 'AuldLang Syne'. When we came to 'Here's a hand, my trusty frere', we alljoined hands round the table; and when we declared we would 'take aright gude Willie Waught', and hadn't the least idea what it meant, wewere really affected.

In a word, I never saw anybody so thoroughly jovial as Mr. Micawberwas, down to the very last moment of the evening, when I took a heartyfarewell of himself and his amiable wife. Consequently, I was notprepared, at seven o'clock next morning, to receive the followingcommunication, dated half past nine in the evening; a quarter of an hourafter I had left him:--

'My DEAR YOUNG FRIEND,

'The die is cast--all is over. Hiding the ravages of care with a sicklymask of mirth, I have not informed you, this evening, that there is nohope of the remittance! Under these circumstances, alike humiliating toendure, humiliating to contemplate, and humiliating to relate, I havedischarged the pecuniary liability contracted at this establishment,by giving a note of hand, made payable fourteen days after date, atmy residence, Pentonville, London. When it becomes due, it will not betaken up. The result is destruction. The bolt is impending, and the treemust fall.

'Let the wretched man who now addresses you, my dear Copperfield, be abeacon to you through life. He writes with that intention, and in thathope. If he could think himself of so much use, one gleam of day might,by possibility, penetrate into the cheerless dungeon of his remainingexistence--though his longevity is, at present (to say the least of it),extremely problematical.

'This is the last communication, my dear Copperfield, you will everreceive

'From

'The

'Beggared Outcast,

'WILKINS MICAWBER.'

I was so shocked by the contents of this heart-rending letter, that Iran off directly towards the little hotel with the intention of takingit on my way to Doctor Strong's, and trying to soothe Mr. Micawber witha word of comfort. But, half-way there, I met the London coach with Mr.and Mrs. Micawber up behind; Mr. Micawber, the very picture of tranquilenjoyment, smiling at Mrs. Micawber's conversation, eating walnuts outof a paper bag, with a bottle sticking out of his breast pocket. As theydid not see me, I thought it best, all things considered, not tosee them. So, with a great weight taken off my mind, I turned into aby-street that was the nearest way to school, and felt, upon the whole,relieved that they were gone; though I still liked them very much,nevertheless.